


phobia orgasma

by orphan_account



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Asphyxiation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BOTH, Crying, Fantasizing, Gen, Other, alright here are the tags ive been avoiding typing, bc i only understand about half of what i was trying to say here, heavily figurative language, i have not a goddamn clue how to tag this, if you can tell what the hell is going on please let me know, in my head this takes place right after he thinks abt killing komugi, just some horny escapism, left most of it up to interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 09:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15927860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: pouf indulges in some escapism





	phobia orgasma

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuse for this but while youre here please listen to the song that inspired this trainwreck (phobia orgasma by oliver riot)

Dulcet notes poured from the f-holes of Pouf’s violin, a rippling act of muscle memory and autopilot meditation. The hollow walls echoed his music right back to him, tying an eighth note noose around the column of his throat as he watched his shadow dance before him through sorrowful eyes. His shoulders were tense with anxiety, making the back and forth of his dominant arm a chore that quickly got old. Despite the pain, his sanity called for music, and Pouf was ever a slave to instinct when it came to his own treatment. 

The soles of his shoes dragged over the ornate carpet as he swayed with his song, adding variety to the steps. When he shut his eyes, he envisioned fingers against his face; they traced down his profile and brushed the curve of his chest before multiplying and racing in opposite directions. Each touch of imaginary fingers stole breath from his lungs and left a burning sensation comparable to hellfire. He’d hate it if it didn’t feel so sweet.

The touch turned to hateful heavy petting, pushing stale air through his mouth in the form of shuddering gasps and destitute wails cut short. Fluttering eyelids showed blinding light that hardly paid the dark room justice, so he kept his eyes shut and let the pathetic fantasy persevere. And persevere it did, pulling him deeper into the feeling of being so utterly wanted it was as intoxicating as it was arousing. Pouf’s knees threatened to buckle, and his toes curled in an attempt to make real the things he was forcing himself to feel. White hot magma bubbled through the cracks in his facade and suddenly the only thing he could feel was pure rapture.

Then it was over and his legs shook with the effort of keeping him upright. His musical noose tightened to the point of pain, and the pain was so pleasurable he didn’t notice that he’d long stopped dancing. His eyes, forced open by reflex, rolled with euphoria at the high, dizzy feeling achieved by the music he wasn’t playing anymore. Blue moons formed against the sides of his neck, achieving a degree of bliss so high Pouf feared he’d never be able to come down. The fear lit itself in the pit of his stomach, and for a reason his brain couldn’t understand, it was a reprieve.

In spite of the pleasant feelings, his eyes were glassy, leaking tears of silver that dripped obscenely off the sharp edge of his jaw. He wanted to breathe, but his throat was too tight. He wanted to scream, but his chest was too empty. He wanted to see, but his vision was to unfocused. The world before him was one far more ideal than he wildest dreams could have produced. Pouf, in his own reverberating thoughts, thanked the hitch simulating austere love around his neck.

It was only as his vision closed in darker that he found it was his own hand curled around his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> like comment and subscribe gamers


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